Ulthane
The Ulthane were warriors of legend, chosen by the gods and given power beyond mortal or Asur alike. To watch over the one place that Caledor Dragontamer's spell could not seal, a bloody isle unknown to maps or seafarers, yet which lives in the hearts of men as a dark tale of shipwrecks and lost souls. According to legend, the Ruinous Powers knew that no creature of this world could fully tame the tides of magic, and thus they waited for their chance to strike. They sent minions to the island, and laid siege to it as once they had Ulthuan. With the light of Aenarion gone, they knew none could stand against their numberless hordes. Yet, for all their cunning, the Dark Gods knew nothing of the Ulthane. Each of these elves had shed their former lives and vanished from the pages of history, becoming nameless warriors in the service of order. The Chaos Gods could not see them, could not know them, and could not defeat them. Upon the shores of that black island, a battle to save the world was waged. A host of daemons fell from the skies, and an army of leviathans rose from the deepest ocean trenches. The very rock rebelled at their touch and writhed in new, terrible forms. And upon the once-fair isle, the blood ran in rivers, turning the waters red for leagues in all directions, yet not once did the Ulthane falter. Their swords were thunder-forged lightning, their shields ice-wrought mirrors. A hundred daemons fell with every blow, and beneath the Ulthane's red-lit eyes, no creature born of Chaos could stand but be withered and cast back to its diabolical abode. And like Aenarion before them, the Ulthane hurled back the foe, fighting a hundred battles in as many days. Though the foe attacked without mercy, neither did the Ulthane stop to lament their fallen brothers nor pause to take sustenance. Their swords smote mightily, and little by little, the attacks of the monstrous horde lessened until, at last, the Dark Powers abandoned their assault. The battle was won, but at a fearful cost. Barely a handful of Ulthane remained, and all knew that there could be no return to the lives they had known. Another attack would come, from the daemons or some other foe intent on seizing the incredible power that lay at the heart of the island. The Ulthane gathered at the twisted heart of the island and swore mighty and unbreakable oaths to stand guard upon its shores forever more. Though ages of the world came and went, the Ulthane stood sentinel over the island, summoning up an enchanted mist to keep the island from the thoughts of lesser races and never once relaxing their penetrating gaze. And should a time come where the world needs their blades again, the Ulthane will return, thunder-forged swords and shields of mirrored ice out-thrust to whatever enemy dares to wreak harm upon the world they have sworn to defend. Trivia * Though the legend says that the Ulthane are kept from the thoughts of lesser races, the High Elf Noble Eldain Fleetmane notices that he only dimly remembers hearing the legends of the Ulthane as a child, the memories hazy and indistinct, "like a fleeting dream that escapes recall upon waking". Even when the tale is told with vigour and charm, its details are already fading from his mind, as though the memory of the Ulthane dared not linger in the memories of those who heard of them for fear the Dark Gods might learn of their existence. Source * : Sons of Ellyrion (novel) by Graham McNeill ** : Chapter 3 Category:High Elf Organisation Category:Scripture Category:U